Can You See the Moon?
by Asagi Tsuki
Summary: (interlude to Father Brown universe) Jean returns to Ledbury for summer break, Sherlock is suffering the repercussions of her absence, Mycroft is finding amusement in annoying Sherlock, and Mrs. Watson gets to play the role of the wise matchmaker, somewhat


**Can You See the Moon?**

By: Asagi Tsuki

Pairing: hint of Sherlock/fem!John

Summary: Jean returns to Ledbury for summer break, Sherlock is suffering the repercussions of her absence, Mycroft is finding amusement in annoying Sherlock, and Mrs. Watson gets to play the role of the wise matchmaker, somewhat

Warning: OOCness, AU

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes is the property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the BBC version, of course, doesn't belong to me as well. Father Brown belongs to G.K. Chesterton and I hold no claim on anything

A/N: an interlude to the Father Brown universe. I was watching a movie that involved long-distance relationship and in one scene, the girl asked "can you see the moon?" to the boy. Err, yes, this story is inspired by that scene. Heavy hints of Sherlock/John in this one-shot, so it might actually happen in the next case or the one after.

Anyway, onto the story.

**Can You See the Moon?**

"What did you say?" Sherlock asked as he looked up from his experiment. "I didn't hear the last part."

"Well, since it's summer break, I'm thinking of going back to Ledbury," Jean said cheerily. "It'll only be two weeks. Since you've survived without me before I moved in, I expect you to survive these two weeks too. Oh, and do try not to burn the flat down."

Sherlock looked horrified for a second. "You're leaving me?"

"Don't be so dramatic, it's only for half of the summer break," Jean said as she stared at Sherlock strangely. "And I don't think you're ready to meet my parents yet."

Sherlock huffed. "Fine. Go on. Leave me behind."

Jean rolled her eyes. "Maybe I should tell Mycroft that you want to visit him while I'm gone."

"Wait, wait, I'll be good," Sherlock said hurriedly. He swore the two devils had banded together to torment him.

Ever since Mycroft brought Harry to London (never mind that it was Sherlock's idea to do so), Jean had gotten quite close to the elder Holmes brother. The two constantly conspired against Sherlock, and while Jean did it out of concern, Mycroft was getting a kick out of it.

"I knew you'd see it my way eventually," Jean said sweetly, patting Sherlock's head and causing the younger Holmes brother to scowl. "Well, I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning. I'll make something for you for breakfast, and I expect you to actually eat it. And I guess I'll see you in two weeks' time."

Sherlock returned to his experiment and Jean sighed, going back to her room to continue packing.

That night, Sherlock stayed up, sitting in his armchair, thinking and wondering why the absence of the doctor affected him so much.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Alright, so here you go," Jean said, handing over a piece of paper to Sherlock who frowned at it. It was a list of things that she expected him do while she was away.

"Sleep at least five times, eat all the food you left behind—what am I, a child?"

"No, you're worse than one," Jean said as she shook her head. "I made some biscuits for you to eat, and you can't use the excuse of not wanting to eat because it slows down your thought processes. Sugar is brain food, so I expect these biscuits to be gone when I come back, and I'm going to hang you upside down from the fan if I find out you've thrown them away."

Sherlock adapted his sulking look, which to the untrained eye looked simply like a frown. However, Jean's eyes were far from untrained.

"I also made some sandwiches. You can heat them up and eat them," Jean said, opening the fridge and showing the pile of sandwiches to Sherlock. "Oh, and yes, I expect you to eat all of them too. Hm, what else... I made some frozen dishes. They're in food containers in the freezer. You can heat them up and eat them later too."

"When did you make all these food?" Sherlock asked.

"When I made the decision to go home for the break," Jean answered simply. "I know you will not eat otherwise. I have gained the cooperation of Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson, and they will tell me whether you have been following my rules or not, so for my sake and yours, do stick to the plan, Sherlock."

"You are a devil," Sherlock said as he rolled his eyes.

"I don't care what you call me as long as you're looking after yourself," Jean said. "Oh, and if you don't, I'm going to hold your violin and Yorick hostage."

Sherlock's expression was pure horror and Jean coughed rather loudly to hide her laugh.

"You are a heartless, cruel, devil."

"I know, Sherlock, I know."

Mycroft and Anthea came by after breakfast to pick Jean up and send her off to Ledbury. Jean had wanted to catch a train, but Mycroft insisted that she be driven there.

"Be good while I'm away, okay?" Jean told Sherlock. "I'll be back soon."

Jean got into the car with Anthea and the driver drove off, leaving Mycroft at their flat.

"And what are you doing here?" Sherlock asked. "You're not going with them?"

"I don't think you'd appreciate me meeting the doctor's parents," Mycroft said easily, swinging his umbrella idly. "I could charm the socks off of them and then you'll have no chance with the good doctor."

Sherlock scowled. "I'm sure Jean doesn't like you like that."

"Yes, but you forget that the good doctor cares for her family too much," Mycroft said, an evil smirk on his face. "Do you think she would say no if her parents say yes?"

"I hope you die, painfully, and soon."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Sherlock groaned in frustration and tried his best to not flip the table in his anger. The experiment wasn't going as planned and he was getting more and more frustrated with every error. He wasn't usually this unfocused, and he couldn't blame Jean's food. The last time he ate was more than six hours ago.

He stormed off to the couch and flopped himself down, sighing angrily. Ever since Jean left, he became grumpier and grumpier. There was no one to make his morning tea, no one to clean up after him, no one to help him with his experiments, and Lestrade went as far as telling Sherlock that as long as the good doctor wasn't there to keep a tight leash on him, he wouldn't be invited to crime scenes (it really wasn't his fault Anderson was being really, really stupid when his patience was already running thin).

"This is all your fault!" Sherlock shouted as he hurled a cushion at Jean's armchair, as if the doctor was there. He sighed deeply as the anger drained away from his being after he let his frustration get the best of him, and slumped on the couch.

"Huh. So it seems the great consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, self-proclaimed high-functioning sociopath, is still affected by the saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'."

"I don't think anyone fond of someone else would fling a cushion at their head."

"Then again, you're not in the 'anyone' category, are you?"

"And what are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, glaring at Mycroft who sat himself in Jean's armchair.

"Checking up on you," Mycroft said easily, helping himself to some of Jean's biscuits that were on the coffee table. "I wasn't aware you have grown addicted to the doctor's presence and are unable to function without her here."

"I'm not unable to function!" Sherlock protested. "I'm just too used to having someone do the menial tasks for me."

"Oh?" Mycroft asked, lifting an eyebrow and speaking with a tone that clearly showed he didn't believe what Sherlock just said. "Then I will have someone come here to do them for you. A doctor with good housekeeping skills."

Sherlock glared at Mycroft but said nothing.

"It's not the end of the world to admit your attachment to someone, brother," Mycroft said, taking another biscuit. "She's an excellent cook too. Why must she find you first?"

"Caring is a disadvantage," Sherlock spat out. "Jean... she can probably hold her grounds against most anything, but the time will come when she will be put in grave danger because of me."

"And yet you don't want to let her go," Mycroft pointed out. "If you have no plan of letting her go, why don't you make it easy on the doctor and tell her that you appreciate her?"

"I'm not a man of words," Sherlock said. "And why do you keep calling her the doctor?"

"That's what she is, isn't it?" Mycroft said simply. "Soon enough the two of you will be known as the consulting detective and the doctor."

"That's not all."

"Indeed," Mycroft said. "I know a lot of people, and certainly not only one Jean. Not only one Jean Watson. However, in every profession, there is only one person important enough for me to remember them. She just happens to be the doctor."

"Ah," Sherlock said. "Well, you've checked up on me now. Kindly show yourself to the door."

"Sarcasm, Sherlock, doesn't befit you," Mycroft said with a chuckle. "If you are going to be this insufferable whenever she goes away, I'll make sure to smuggle you off with her luggage."

Sherlock considered hurling another cushion at Mycroft's head, but he didn't feel like getting up to pick the cushion off the floor so he decided against it.

It was, after all, Jean's job to pick the cushion up and chide him and tell him to play nice with his brother.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Sherlock fiddled with his phone, staring at the contact on his list with the name 'Partner-in-crime'. Jean had commented offhandedly how she would be Sherlock's partner-in-crime if they were in a bad crime movie, and he had changed her name from 'Watson' to 'Partner-in-crime' since then.

Sighing in defeat, he finally hit the dial button, lifting his phone up to his ear and waiting for the call to be picked up.

"Jean?" he called once the dial tone stopped. "Jean, I—is it possible for you to come back sooner? Lestrade won't let me in on cases without you and I'm almost bored to my wits' end. My wits' end! And you always said my mind has no limits."

The person on the other end of the line cleared their throat. "Jean is in the bathroom, dear. She should be done soon, though. Do you want to wait?"

"Oh," Sherlock said, feeling quite silly. "Yes, I will wait. Um, you are Mrs. Watson?"

The woman laughed. "Yes, this is Mrs. Watson," she said. "The last time I checked, Jean is still undergoing medical training at school. What has she gotten herself into now? And who is this?"

"Oh, nothing, she's still going to school and doing her assignments well," Sherlock said quickly. "I'm her new roommate, a consulting detective. The detective inspector who usually comes to me for help in cases won't let me in on them now, saying I'm a menace without the good doctor around."

Mrs. Watson laughed again. "She's called the good doctor now? Well, that's good for her. What's your name, though, young man?"

"It should be written there, shouldn't it?"

"Unless your name is Christmas Gift, then no, it isn't."

Sherlock was surprised into silence. There were only a few occasions where he was surprised enough that he was speechless, and this was one of them.

"Oh. My name is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"Right, then, Sherlock. I hope Jean hasn't been bothering you much."

"Oh, no, no. She's an excellent doctor and assistant. You have raised her well."

"And you are quite a charming young man, aren't you? No wonder Jean is taken with you. She's always talking about her wonderful new roommate, so it's good to finally be able to talk to you. Oh, here comes Jean."

Sherlock could hear Jean shouting "Mom!" in the distance before the phone was given to her. He could only hope that his nosy brother wasn't tapping this call, otherwise he'd never live it down.

"Hi, Sherlock," Jean greeted. "How are you holding up? Did you eat regularly?"

"I'm not a child, Jean."

"Did you eat regularly?" Jean repeated, her tone stern.

"Yes, I did."

"Good. Is something the matter? You don't usually call unless it's important."

"Your absence is noted," Sherlock said. "Lestrade won't let me in on cases without you after I went off at Anderson for being stupid. I hate having to stop observing my experiments whenever someone texts or whenever I have to fetch something. Mycroft is being unbearably annoying and Mrs. Hudson—"

"Sherlock," Jean cut him off, "I miss you too."

Jean chuckled when there was no reply from the other end. "It's great to be back in my home, but sometimes at night, I just sit there wondering how you're holding up. I miss the thrill of a chase, of going to crime scenes with you."

"I'm not a child, Jean."

"I know, but I worry about you. All of these unhealthy tendencies will catch up with you sooner or later, and when they do, where would that leave me?"

"Fine, I will eat and sleep when you ask me to, but only when we're not on a case."

"And that's all I'm asking for. Thank you, Sherlock."

"So how's your vacation?"

"Oh, it's been great," Jean said excitedly. "I got to work in the brewery again for a while. I told my parents about Smythe and Welkin, of course, and they seem to be interested in you too. You've talked to my mother. What do you think?"

"She's a nice woman, I suppose," Sherlock trailed off at the end. "Reminds me of Mrs. Hudson in a way."

Jean chuckled. "I take it that the past week hasn't been that good for you, then?"

"No. Mycroft is going out of his way to annoy me. Come back soon so I have a reason to kick him out."

"Now, now, be nice to your brother."

"This is all your fault you know."

"What is?"

"This. I've never had problems being all by myself. I've never been denied access to cases because I was being a _menace_. I've never needed help with my experiments. Three months with you and now everything is a mess."

"What do you want me to say? I'm sorry?" Jean asked teasingly. "Well, it's a good thing that I don't plan to leave you alone, right? At least not for long."

"What—"

"I mean, you're stuck with me, mister, whether you like it or not. And you're not the only one affected. Whenever I see something out of place, I just can't leave it alone."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? That means you're starting to observe. You've always been smarter than the lot of them, anyway. I told you so."

Jean laughed. "You're the only person who can compliment and insult in the same sentence."

Sherlock snorted derisively.

"It's a full moon tonight," Jean said suddenly, and Sherlock looked outside the window just to confirm it. "Can you see the moon, Sherlock?"

"I have yet to develop eyesight problems since the last time we were together."

Jean laughed. "You know that's not what I mean."

"You should have been clearer then."

"Yes, I should have," Jean agreed. There was a pause, followed by footsteps. "I know it's sentimental and I know you hate sentiments, but... looking at the moon together like this, it makes me feel like... like we're near; like I'm sitting right next to you, staring up at the moon, and not sitting in my room, all by myself, two hundred kilometres away from you."

"... Jean."

"Yes?"

"I can see the moon."

A comfortable silence fell over them as they simply sat by the window, staring up at the full moon, shining bright against the backdrop of a starless night sky.

"So, Christmas Gift?"

"You just _had_ to ruin the moment, didn't you? And you have no right to criticise my choice of name. It's way better than partner-in-crime."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Sherlock sat fuming in his armchair. Molly hadn't been able to get him new specimens to experiment on, Lestrade was still adamant about not letting him in unless Jean was around, and Mycroft was still dropping by at odd hours just to annoy him. It had been ten days since Jean left; four days to go and he was already at the brink of his sanity.

The door opened and Sherlock barked out angrily, "Go away, Mycroft! I don't have time for you today."

"Now, now, I told you to be nice to your brother."

Sherlock looked up in surprise. "Jean?" he asked as he frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"Not happy to see me, Mr. Holmes?" Jean asked as she laughed. "Come here and help me get my bags in."

Sherlock walked over to her and helped carry the bags from the sidewalk to the flat. "It's not two weeks yet."

"I can count the days, Sherlock," Jean said, her eyes twinkling in amusement. "I thought you said you missed me. Is that not the case?"

"You shouldn't let what I said influence your decisions."

Jean shrugged. "My mother wanted me to come back here soon. Apparently she's become a master at telling whether someone truly misses the other or not. She used to travel to her sister's place at Sussex. Harry and I would call her, and only when we really miss her would she hurry home. She can tell from your voice."

"Ah."

"Yes. I'm flattered, Sherlock," Jean said, reaching out and mussing his hair. "Oh, I missed doing that too."

Sherlock watched as Jean went about the flat, checking to see if Sherlock had indeed eaten everything she left for him. Later that night, as he sat on the couch, he wondered how they could fall into routine so easily. Jean hadn't been back for a day and already she was cleaning up the mess while chiding him and helping him out with his experiment, the one he had stopped working on due to his frustration but had picked up again because Jean was back.

"Penny for your thought?"

Sherlock barely spared Jean a glance as the girl sat down beside him. If she had been anyone else, he would have barked a scathing remark for her apparent disrespect for personal bubble—never mind that Sherlock's personal bubble was almost thrice the size of a normal person's. But she wasn't anyone else, and so he kept quiet.

"It's still a full moon tonight," Jean commented as she stared out of the window. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

This time, Sherlock spared her a glance before he looked back outside the window and hummed in agreement. Jean slowly, hesitantly and tentatively, moved her hand to rest it on top of Sherlock's, her touch feather light so she could move it away in a moment's notice, as if she was expecting Sherlock to bite her head off.

Sherlock kept quiet, keeping his gaze fixated on the full moon. He could feel nervousness radiating off of the doctor and decided to take pity on her, slowly turning his hand and intertwining their fingers. Her hand was cool but it quickly warmed up in his hold.

Jean smiled, leaning towards Sherlock and resting her head on his shoulder. "Can you see the moon, Sherlock?"

He held her hand tighter. "Yes, I can see the moon."

**End Story**

Hope you enjoyed that :D if you do, do leave a comment coz I'm a comment whore :P

This is way, way longer than I thought it would be D: I had really thought the interlude would only be two thousand words tops, but nonetheless it was really fun to write. I like the idea of Sherlock being unable to function properly without his John/Jean, as I think even in the series he has come to rely on John's loyalty and constant presence.

Sherlock is sweet in his own way to John, and I had him be even sweeter just because Jean is a girl and he knew he couldn't show his appreciation the way he'd show it to another man. Oh, and also because Jean is younger than him.

And for anyone wondering why Sherlock's name is "Christmas Gift" on Jean's contact list, it's a reference to Jean's comment in The Eye of Apollo, in which she said "I must have been a really good kid for Father Santa to give me such a gift" in reference to Sherlock being her friend.

Anyway, to anyone reading the Father Brown short stories, any suggestion what case I should do next? :P


End file.
